Donna
by Rjalker
Summary: Second in the Someone Has To series. "So…" The other woman's voice had been light, her struggle obvious in the way she held her shoulders hunched, and she held her gaze firmly over the horizon, "You're sure you're not from Mars?"


The first time she took off the coat, she and Donna Noble were sitting on the edge of a roof, looking out over London as the sun rose.

"So…" The other woman's voice had been light, her struggle obvious in the way she held her shoulders hunched, and she held her gaze firmly over the horizon, "You're sure you're not from Mars?"

She chuckled—the sound feeling strange in her throat—and shook her head. "No," She said softly, "Just as human as you."

There was silence for a moment, as they watched the sun slowly peek out over the horizon. Donna shivered, and wrapped her arms across her chest, goosebumps running up and down her skin. "Bit chilly," She said, her mouth twisting slightly, her voice struggling, as though on the verge of tears.

It only took a moment of hesitation for her to begin pulling the coat off her shoulders. It was difficult, and for more reasons than purely emotional.

She managed to free her left shoulder before the fabric clung to her right arm, and turned her face white with pain. Turning her face away so Donna wouldn't see, she bit her lip to hold in a cry, her eyes watering uncontrollably.

The pain that she thought had stopped half an hour ago was back, and worse than ever before. When she finally freed her arm, the chill that assaulted her wound made her want to sob. As it was, tears spilled down her cheeks, and her nails dug crescents into her palms.

The coat draped across her legs, the pale skin of her lower arm was abruptly and horribly disfigured as it reached above her elbow.

Down to the bone the acid had burned, twisting and mangling her skin. The muscle had been stained a deep, sick purple around the yellow-white of the bone that was visible, and it steamed in short whisps of icy smoke in the cold air, driving spikes of pain down through her arm and up her chest to her heart until he wanted to scream.

But she held the cry in, locked behind her teeth. Donna had gone through enough horror for one day. There was no need to inflict the sight of what the Racnoss' acid had done to her arm on her.

She had lost her fiancé. She had lost her wedding day. She had lost her peace of mind.

She wasn't going to make her lose anything else.

"H-Here." She said, offering the coat with her good hand, thanking whatever powers there were that she had chosen to sit on Donna's left. It was easy to hid her arm behind her side, though she couldn't hide the tear tracks on her face, or the catch in her voice.

Fortunately, Donna was lost in her own thoughts, and took it gratefully without looking close enough to see the pain she was in.

"Thanks," She said, pulling it over her shoulders like a blanket as her shivering stopped.

A few moments passed in silence, in which she managed to quell the pain long enough to clear her face of all its evidence.

But the acid burn was still smoking in the chilled air, and it curled up and past her in strange shapes, shifting with the wind and refusing to dissipate. The smell of the acid was in the air, hanging low around them.

It didn't take Donna long to notice, and she recognized the smell of burning metal that came along with it. She had a feeling that the other woman would never forget it.

Immediately, alarm filled her eyes, and she tensed, her breath catching in her throat as her gaze switched in every direction, obviously worried that the Racnoss was somehow still alive. And then she saw the smoke trailing away from her, and her face became more alarmed than before.

"Oh my god." She whispered, getting to her feet so quickly she worried that she would stumble and fall over the edge of the building, "You—when you pushed me out of the way—!" She moved to her side so quickly that she didn't have time to hide the wound, or even think up an excuse.

Donna swore loudly, and one of her hands flew to cover her mouth in horror.

"I—" She stood quickly, moving away from the edge and back to where the TARDIS was waiting for them, struggling to find words. She didn't want Donna to worry. She didn't want to make her afraid. She was going to be fine. The acid hadn't advanced any further. It had stopped burning away at her. Now it was just pain. She could handle pain. "I'm _fine_." Her lie didn't stop her voice from cracking, though.

"No, but—Doctor!" Donna moved after her, distressed, "You need to get to a hospital! You can't just—You can't just leave like this!" The coat lifted out behind her like wings as she moved. "I won't let you!"

But she shook her head, stepping closer to the TARDIS as though the time machine could hide her. "How would I explain it?" She demanded, "There's nothing they'd be able to do, anyways."

The pain was starting to become intolerable, and she struggled to hold back renewed tears.

Donna seemed to sense it, and lowered her voice, "Please," She said, her voice gentle but for the edge of hysteria to it, "Please, just—at least let—" She was struggling for words as desperately as she had before, "At least let me help you. At my house, my gramps—he, he won't tell anyone. He has a first aid kit, he fills it with whatever her finds incase—incase anything happens."

Donna moved to stand infront of her, looking into her eyes with nothing but concern, "Please, Doctor, it—it's not far from here. We-we could walk, even, if you really wanted to."

For a moment, she hesitated.

The TARDIS' infirmary was difficult to navigate even _with_ help, and once she was there she wouldn't even know what to do or where to begin.

She wasn't even really sure why she was resisting.

But Donna was the first other person she had seen in months. Anxiety crawled in her stomach at the thought of meeting another person so soon. None of them knew her, none of them were familiar.

And none of them knew her. Rose Tyler had died in the battle of Canary Warf.

Donna called her the Doctor, but she didn't deserve the name. It wasn't hers. It was just a symbol. And one she hadn't earned. How could she face another person with a lie still fresh upon her lips?

How could she ask for help when she couldn't even be honest?

Donna was watching her, waiting for an answer. One of her hands moved to rest on her shoulder—her good shoulder—gently. "Please." She said softly, "You saved my life. Now let me help you."

For a moment longer, she hesitated.

But the strength in Donna's eyes was too much to say no to. Silently, she nodded, wondering if she was making a terrible mistake.

So many things could go wrong. Donna's grandfather could call for an ambulance. He could call the police. Someone could come and find the TARDIS, and they'd lock her away where she could never find her again.

As though she knew the direction her thoughts had turned, Donna smiled softly. "You can trust me." She said, "And you can trust me gramps. He wouldn't hurt a fly." Then she turned, and led them both back to the TARDIS as though this were something she did every day.

The doors opened at the touch of Donna's hand, surprising them both.

She laughed, despite everything. "The TARDIS must like you."

Donna's eyes widened as they stepped inside, "It—it's_ alive_?" She released her shoulder suddenly, as though she'd suddenly realized they were still touching. "I-I didn't realize." She stared around in wonder as they went up to the console.

The TARDIS began to hum almost immediately, welcoming their return. Lights flickered in the walls, their meaning as clear as day after months of no one else for company. She sighed softly, outnumbered. "She's telling me I need medical attention." She explained quietly to Donna, who was watching the lights with interest. "You said it was within walking distance?"

Donna nodded, shaking herself out of her distraction. "Yeah," she said, frowning suddenly, "Just a few blocks away." As though she'd suddenly noticed she was still wearing the coat, she shrugged it off, and held it out with one hand, "You probably want this back."

She took it gratefully, trying to hide how relieved she was. "Thanks." She said, draping it over her shoulders like Donna had so that the fabric wouldn't touch her arm, and moving closer to the console.

Holding her breath for a moment as the TARDIS began lighting up buttons and switches in the order that she would need to activate them, her eyes traced over the path as it repeated once, then twice, and five times in total before she felt confident enough to attempt it.

She looked over her shoulder to where Donna was standing, watching with curiosity, and had the sudden realization that she wasn't alone. She didn't have to go racing around to the other side of the console and back again just to initiate the dematerialization sequence. She could ask Donna to help her, and they would get it done in half the time.

But the pain that stung at her arm seemed to mock her, and she bit her lip. If she couldn't do it by herself, then there was no point in doing it at all.

"You might want to hold onto something," She warned, looking over at the safety railing meaningfully. It only took Donna a moment to remember the bumpy ride it had taken to get them where they were now, and she wasted no time in wrapping her arms securely around the railing, hitching her dress up around her knees so she wouldn't trip over it. "Alright," She called, "I'm ready."

The TARDIS ran through the sequence on more time, putting emphasis on the later stages, when she would have to designate the landing spot and time. It was only a few dozen feet below them on the sidewalk, and a few seconds into the future, but that didn't matter with the TARDIS. The whole of time and space stretched before them, and if she got the sequence off by just a moment, they could careen to anywhere within their section of the galaxy, with no telling when or _where_ they would end up.

One last breath to prepare herself, and then she slammed her hand on the first button, already lunging toward the next, the moments spinning away in her head like a countdown as she darted to the next, and the next, and the next, her feet and hands flying automatically out to continue the pattern she had spent hours each day as months passed memorizing.

In less than thirty seconds, the familiar sound of the TARDIS dematerializing was whooshing through the air around them, drawing the air into their lungs and expelling it again with each moment that it passed, the ship slowly disappearing from the world and into the state that would let her travel wherever she needed to go.

Just a few more seconds, a few more frantic leaps around the console, ignoring the shaking and spinning as the ship struggled to remain stable despite the inexperience of her pilot, and the final coordinates were in, just in time for a particularly hard crash to send her flying off her feet away from the console.

Her arm—her good one, thankfully—slammed into the railing, and she just barely managed to wrap her fingers around one of the bars before another crash shook the TARDIS, juddering up her feet and straight into her heart.

A few feet away, Donna was clinging to the railing for dear life, her face an impossible mixture of fear, exhilaration, and anxiety. Probably wondering if the ship were going to explode.

Looping her good arm through the railing, she couldn't help but wonder the same.

But slowly, the shaking subsided, and the sound of the TARDIS' materializing began to quiet, and both women realized at the same time that they had made it in once piece as the ship gave one final, half-hearted lurch, then fell still.

Her breathing heavy because of the pain still in her arm, she waited a moment where she was, trying to calm her pounding heart. Then she hurried back to the console, her hands flying over the keys that would activate the scanner.

"Oh thank god." She sighed, recognizing the view that appeared on the screen overhead. They had landed exactly where she'd planned, on the sidewalk next to the building they'd landed atop earlier. She turned to find Donna dusting her dress, her hands shaking only slightly. "Are you alright?" She asked, concerned.

But the other woman just laughed, as though in disbelief. "Says the one who can see down to the bone in her arm," She scoffed, pushing her hair out of her face, as she started toward the console to examine the viewer.

The TARDIS darted over in soft blue lights along the walls that ran along the circuits beneath their feet, and crawled up the console until the area around the hand of her injured arm was glowing and flickering, sending warmth running up her fingers and into her shoulder. Donna looked at the strange display in wary curiosity, looking like she was afraid of getting shocked. "Does—does it have a name?" She asked suddenly, looking all around her, "I mean, you said TARDIS is like, the type of ship. Does this one have its own name?"

Abruptly, the lights encircling her hand spread out, changing from blue to a bright, almost white yellow color, and spinning in circles. The humming beneath their feet got louder, and the screen flickered, like it wanted to change setting.

She stared in surprise for a moment, then quickly gave the ship the permission was seeking. "Go ahead," She urged, shoving the pain in her arm to the back of her mind, "What do you want to show us?"

The screen went black, then began to flash through images so quickly that neither of them could make out a single one. Then it went black again, and bar appeared, with the Gallifreyan symbol she had come to recognize as a zero above it.

Frowning, she patted the console with one hand encouragingly, then turned to Donna. "It's going to take her a while to find whatever she wants to show us," She said, tugging on the coat when it started to fall off her shoulders, "Should we get going?"

The nervousness was back, coiling in her stomach like a rattlesnake. But the pain in her arm was sharper, slowly ramping up back toward the agony it had been when she first got it, and she knew that she had to get at least _some_ form of help if it were ever to heal.

"Yeah," Donna said, without hesitation, and hitching up the bottom of her dress again, "It's not far, we should be able to get there in five minutes. Are—" She looked at her arm, her face going slightly pale at the sight, "Are you going to be alright until then?"

With no other choice, she nodded sullenly, and pulled the edges of the coat forward so that she could button it at her neck so no one on the street would see the wound. She didn't want to emotionally scar any more people than she already had. "Let's go." She said softly.

She brushed her hands along the console one last time before they left, and the TARDIS lights flickered once, softly, as though wishing them luck.

And then they were out the doors, and on the busy street. The doors shut behind them quickly so no one would see inside, Donna set off at a fast walk, staunchly ignoring anyone that looked at her weirdly for the wedding dress she still wore.

It wasn't far, like Donna had promised, and with their fast pace, the chill of the air had barely touched them before they were inside, and Donna was leading her up a flight of stairs. "There's aren't any cars out front," She explained as they turned toward another set of stairs, "So my mum isn't home yet. Gramps was sick, though, so he had to stay home. Near broke his heart that he had to miss the wedding." She said regretfully.

Then they reached the top of the stairs to the third floor, and Donna hurried ahead to knock on the door at the end of the hall. "Gramps?" She called, "Gramps, it's me. Can I come in?"

"Donna?" The voice that came through the door was shocked, and overjoyed. "Darling! Yes, yes, come in!"

Donna opened the door, and then urged her forward, calling ahead, "Gramps, I'm going to need your first aid kit, have you still got it in here?"

The room was relatively large, but her attention was immediately drawn to the old man sitting up in the bed at the closest wall, staring toward them as though he couldn't believe his eyes. His hair was white, and age had painted wrinkles into his skin, though his eyes were as bright as theirs. "Donna, you're alright!" He cried, grinning widely.

And then he noticed her, and the joy on his face was wiped away to leave room for confusion. "Who's this?"

But Donna shook her head, "I'll explain later," She said, "Where'd you put your first aid kit? Under the bed?" Without waiting for an answer, she knelt down on the floor and began pulling boxes out.

"Wha—Donna!" The man swung his legs over the bed and put a hand on her shoulder. "I moved it to the closet. Put those back, will you?" He then hurried over to the wardrobe set against the wall, and pulled a large white suitcase out. "What do you need it for? Are you hurt?" He directed his question at Donna, his expression drowning in concern.

Not wanting him to worry, she stepped forward from where she had been waiting in the door, her voice suddenly strong despite the pain gnawing at her, "It's me who needs it." She said, debating whether or not to show him her arm. But Donna beat her to it, rushing back to her side and lifting the coat away gently as she ushered her forward, looking at her grandfather with worry, "Gramps, do you know how to do anything for this?"

For a moment, there was nothing but shock on the old man's face, but then it faded, and he nodded firmly.

The next few minutes passed in a blur of pain, as her wound was rinsed thoroughly with cold water—and it was a relief to see that the blue steam faded after only a few moments, though it had alarmed the old man, but not enough for him to demand answers, not _yet_ at least—and then brushed gently with a clean cloth.

The old man then bandaged it lightly, and offered her ibuprofen for the pain.

It was obvious that he wanted to ask how it had happened, but he managed to refrain until the ordeal was over, and her head was clear enough for her to smile in thanks.

Then Donna widened her eyes pointedly, and mimed a spider with her fingers behind her grandfather's back while he was still focused on tying the bandages on her arm. Donna pointed at him, then made a questioning look.

It took her a moment to figure out what she was trying to say, then she nodded, giving permission.

"It was aliens," She said simply when the old man stood to put the medical supplies back.

"_What_?" With a gasp, the man turned to her—but too slow to see the shooing motion Donna made, or to see her toss a crumpled piece of paper for her to catch with her good hand.

The meaning was clear, and she quickly grabbed her coat from where it had been set against the bed, and took the stairs two at a time—only to slam into a woman with silver hair not even halfway down them.

Pain lanced down her arm, but when the woman stumbled backwards, about to fall, it didn't matter. Her hand closed around the woman's wrist, and steadied her. Then she was running again, her feet impacting with the stairs much harder than they should have, fearing that any moment someone was going to stop her and demand to know who she was, what her name was, where she had come from.

She ran out of the house, and down the road, pulling the coat over her arms as she did, as shouting erupted far behind her.

Her heart pounded in her chest, adrenaline sang through her veins, the wind swept her hair out of her face, she couldn't even feel the pain in her arm anymore, and she hadn't felt so alive in months.

The note Donna had given her clutched in her hand, her run increased to a sprint, until the people on the sidewalk were flying past her in blurs of colors, and her lungs burned with the effort. She'd been slacking off.

The sudden urge to laugh almost overcame her, but she managed to suppress it.

She couldn't stop herself from grinning widely, though, as the TARDIS came suddenly into view around a corner and grew rapidly as she drew closer.

She had missed this.


End file.
